


Pagan Poetry

by tattedmariposa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattedmariposa/pseuds/tattedmariposa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a <a href="http://ooh-shinies.livejournal.com/523.html?thread=799499#t799499">prompt</a> on the (old) FE kink meme.  "Ike/Soren, their first time. possibly after the end of PoR."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pagan Poetry

And he makes me want to hand myself over.  
\--Björk, “Pagan Poetry”

–

It wasn't different than any other time. In a corridor awash with orange torchlight, one hand found another, and the two fell in stride together toward a familiar destination.

"It's almost like when we were kids," Ike laughed a little. "Sneaking around the grown-ups so we could go outside to play."

Soren quirked an eyebrow at him. "Going outside to play isn't quite what I had in mind, Ike."

"I said _almost_." A small, slender hand squeezed Ike's in reply. 

In the midst of a stuffy castle gala (one of those exalted events supposedly requiring their presence, for reasons unbeknownst to either of them) their eyes had met from across the room, past all the drinkers and the talkers and the hangers-on. Ike excused himself from an overly eager group of tipsy young ladies and exited from the back, Soren slipped out of the side, and no one was the wiser.

And once the door to Ike's bedroom was safely secured behind them, they wasted no time completing their escape, sinking into the mattress, wrapping loosely around one another, settling into a pattern of slow, lazy kisses that gradually became more insistent. It was no different than any other time.

But then it was.

"Ike, Ike, wait-"

He pulled back a bit, even though neither of them really wanted that. He wanted to continue searching through dark, heavy fabric for some of Soren's skin. He wanted to feel one of Soren's legs wrapped around him again, pressing on the backs of his thighs.

"Hm?"

In the following moment's silence Ike saw something in Soren's throat shift, like he trying to swallow frayed nerves, but his face betrayed nothing. The dim half-light of the moon streaming through the windows caught his red eyes in a way that Ike couldn't help but find alluring. 

"There should be some salve in the top drawer of your dresser."

Ike leaned back a little more but made no move to stand, and regarded Soren quizzically. "Salve? Why do we--"

Soren cut him off with a short laugh. "If you think we're going to do this without, you're insane."

"Going to do... oh. _Oh_." He blinked (surprised, touched, more than a little curious) and reached to brush away hair from the side of Soren's face. "Soren, are you sure?"

He nodded solemnly. "As long as you want to."

"Of course I want to," Ike answered without a moment's hesitation. "I mean, I want to, but we don't have to."

"I want to."

Then it was Ike's turn to nod. "Okay." He kissed Soren deeply, and after he felt his way back to the bed in the near dark and nestled the little jar in the mussed blankets for the time being, they picked up right where they had left off. Ike settled between Soren's parted knees, and they kissed again as though he'd been gone for days rather than seconds. 

But then Ike raised his head momentarily from Soren's neck. "Are you really sure--" 

"Yes. I already said so. You already said so."

"I know, but--"

"You still want to, yes?"

"Yeah, of course, I just--"

"Then we're in agreement."

"Yeah. I guess we are." Ike shifted his weight from one side to the other, wondering what would come next with equal parts thrill and trepidation. "So. Um."

"I think you're supposed to undress me now, Ike." 

He felt like he should have been annoyed at the vaguely amused look on Soren's face, and decided that he probably would have been, were it anyone else. Instead Ike started to work on untying Soren's sashes.

And worked.

And worked.

And--

"Here, let me--"

"It's okay, I can-- ow!"

Soren had tried sitting up at the same moment Ike had decided to lean forward, and so they were both left gingerly inspecting their foreheads.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yeah."

It wasn't usually like that. Usually, they fit together perfectly. Usually, their movements synchronized so easily.

Usually, Ike didn't have to worry about keeping his hands steady.

Soren's bony fingers made quick work of the knots that were so uncooperative just moments before, and Ike wasn't sure if he should feel dismayed or relieved. But then Soren was undoing his robes, arching his back so he could shrug out of his undershirt (and uncovering his fair skin all too slowly), and saying something--

Ike blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"You're nervous."

"No I'm no--"

He stopped, because even in a moonlit bedroom sometime after midnight, Ike knew that look in Soren's eyes. To anyone else, he might have looked, if anything, the slightest bit exasperated. To Ike, it screamed _I know you better than you know yourself_. 

"You never run your hand through your hair like that unless you're nervous," Soren noted. Ike's arm self-consciously dropped back to his side, and Soren reached out to rest his own hand underneath a loosened shirt in a way that sent pleasant shivers up Ike's spine. His voice softened a little. "Ike, it's just me."

"I think that's the problem."

"Would you rather it was someone else?" 

Ike scowled at the slight hint of a teasing lilt in Soren's otherwise even tone. "No! It's just…" _I want you to like it, I don't want to hurt you, I want this to be_ right. “Aren't you?”

Each searched the other's face in silence. 

“Terrified might be a more apt description.”

Ike laughed at the answer he hadn't expected Soren to give. “You've been hiding it well.”

Soren shrugged. “I'm used to it. You're not,” he explained simply, as though it were the most logical answer in the world. Ike supposed it did make sense. “I'm more nervous now than I've been in months.”

Ike played with a little of Soren's hair instead of his own, and smiled down at him in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He tried to push the little twinge twinge of sorrow that was stabbing at him down and away ( _in months, in months_ ); he tried not to think about memories of tears and shaky, secret words. He leaned down, closed his eyes and rested his head against Soren's, taking a moment to do something they could hardly afford to do all those months ago, something they were rarely _allowed_ to do (and something which he didn't once take for granted, despite the fact that that was all over now): simply feel. 

"I love you, you know." It came out so quietly that Ike wondered for a fleeting moment if he'd said it out loud, or merely thought it.

"I know." He couldn't help but smile at the way Soren said it. There was so much certainty, so much contentment, so many things that Soren almost never expressed in those two words.

Soren didn't say anything else, but that didn't matter to Ike. He knew too. He lay on Soren's shoulder, speaking into the side of his neck. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“I've read that it hurts, at first,” Soren buried his fingers in short blue locks, tracing cryptic incantations upon Ike's scalp, “but I know you won't mean it.”

“I won't. I promise.”

Their lips met again in an excruciatingly slow sweetness, but before long they were back to they were when they started, clamoring to move along, to explore, to go to that one place they had yet to go.

But that wasn't entirely true. They quickly learned that there were a million other places they had yet to go. Places that made Soren sigh and tense as Ike discovered each one. The spaces between his ribs, the insides of his arms, the sharply symmetrical outlines of his hipbones. And even though thoughts of _am I being too rough?_ needled the back of Ike's mind, even though it turned out that Soren's feet were freezing cold and and even though he made Ike flinch when he scraped sharp nails a little too vigorously across Ike's back – even though it was all trial and error, even though there was still so very much to learn – it was all so, so thrilling. And they only wanted more.

Ike had pulled away and was feeling around in the sheets for that little jar of salve when he looked up to find Soren holding it up with a smirk. He couldn't quite tear his gaze from the younger boy's darkly glittering eyes and sticky mouth, the messy tangles of hair against the white pillows and the fresh red marks on his pale neck. Any other time Ike would have been scolded for being so sloppy and getting salve on the bedding, but Soren's eyes were equally transfixed.

“You're still sure, right?”

“Must we go through this again?”

He tried to interpret every tiny hitch in Soren's breath, every shift in his face as he carefully moved his fingers. At first Soren hissed and tightly squeezed Ike's free hand, but his grip loosened before long, his body relaxed into Ike's touches, and he even pushed back a little. Then Ike curled his fingertips just a bit in a certain way, and he heard a sudden, broken little cry.

“Soren! Are you--”

“ _Do that again._ ”

Ike gladly obeyed, faintly aware of the way every noise that tore from Soren's lips made his own breath hasten. And then Soren told Ike how badly he needed him, right now ( _please_ ), and Ike murmured it back without a second thought, every word of it, and he knew it was one of the truest things he would ever say.

As Ike draped himself across Soren's body once again, slender arms wrapped around him. He could feel the soft insides of Soren's thighs against his hips and hot breath tickling the side of his face, and it was all driving him mad. In spite of the blissful torture he grit his teeth and forced himself move slowly and thoroughly, and in turn Soren let himself be molded to Ike's unspoken demands. Rough hands made gentle trailed the backs of Soren's legs and carefully parted them further, ankles were brought to rest on slightly trembling shoulders. 

“ _Ike_ ,” Soren gasped, a discomforted strain clear in his voice. He gratefully leaned into the palm brought to his cheek.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

“I know, I know, it's okay...”

Ike covered Soren's mouth with his own in an effort to distract from the pain, and after a little while, it started to work. Legs slipped and wrapped around Ike's waist, and his spine shifted under Soren's palms as they moved experimentally.

“Soren,” Ike's voice was all air, his breaths coming in short, labored spurts. “Is it--”

“Yes,” was the emphatic answer. One of Soren's hands was trailing a broad, sweat-slicked back, the other was tangled in damp blue hair. “Oh, Ike...”

Hearing that - hearing Soren say his name like _that_ \- was all Ike needed. He gave in, pushed, let himself go, finally. He still listened for any sudden, pained whimpers, but he found only searing hot breath, skinny arms enfolding his body like a vice; trusting, vulnerable, smoldering red eyes, and all of it only made Ike want to give himself more. 

It was over before he would have liked (Ike first, Soren following shortly after as Ike held him tightly and kissed him fiercely). And as they reveled together still and silent, side by side in their shared pleasant haze, gradually becoming aware of the world outside of one another's bodies, he began to wonder just what was running though Soren's head right then. If it was as good as it had been for him, if it didn't last long enough, if he was pleased or disappointed. If things would be different.

But Soren turned to him, wordlessly asking to nestle under his arm. Soren was all sharp bones and odd planes and angles at Ike's side, small and jagged around the edges, but somehow it was comfortable (it was _right_ ), as it always had been. He closed his eyes and stroked smooth, dark hair while Soren whispered things that Ike was sure he'd never tire of hearing.

It wasn't different than any other time.


End file.
